Wake Me Up
by SuavePanda
Summary: The one where they're two strangers on a train and end up spending the day in Paris. Because that's what you do when you're young and definitely not in love.
1. you're my king and i'm your lionheart

_You said, ain't this just like the present_  
_To be showing up like this?_  
_As a moon waned to crescent_  
_We started to kiss_

* * *

"...Leo? Leo! Leo? Shit."

Piper shakes her mobile desperately between her hands as though she can magically turn it back on through sheer force of will; the screen of her iPhone remains resolutely black and she sighs heavily before slipping it into her backpack, trying to ignore the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like her best friend mutter a chorus of _I told you so_. She blinks blearily and lies back on her seat, taking in the green scenery that sweeps past her window, nothing to distinguish whether they've crossed the border to France yet. It should be peaceful; the steady dull roar of the train, the landscape, the warm sheep skinned denim jacket she stole from Leo with a wink before leaving, all of this should have her drifting off at this godforsaken hour in the morning but the fighting couple next to her are insistent on not letting that happen.

She tries to meet the woman's eyes to convey that she's fucking pissed, but the woman's intent on maintaining a level of verbal abuse that only cats can hear at this point. Rolling her eyes instead, Piper grips hold of her graffitied backpack—_prisspots, tosser, Leo's property_, all terms of endearment in permanent marker that refuse to budge—and slides off her seat, walking to the end of the aisle and sprawling over the only two available seats opposite a boy with short hair who's pretending not to listen to the argument by reading an ad in a worn out copy of NME. Piper raises her eyebrows in question—okay if I sit here?—and the boy gives her half a smile with a mouth that's scarred on one side.

She takes to staring out the window again, a little overwhelmed by the vast amount of water everywhere, until she's interrupted from her stupor by the arguing couple stomping past them, screaming in Dutch. She glances at the boy opposite her again and grins at how comically large he's made his eyes look, like a terrified toddler with many too lanky limbs.

"Any idea what that's about?" She flicks a thumb behind her, pointing at the couple that's - thankfully - disappeared. The boy shrugs.

"Not a clue. My foreign language skills extend as far as bonjour and something about going to the cinema with mes copains."

Piper smiles wider, dimples framing his cheeks. "Je suis allé au cinéma avec mes copains et ma famille! That must be an American education I hear, then. Those are horrible."

The boy pulls a ridiculous face, nodding forlornly. Piper lets out a laugh in spite of herself and presses the palm of her hand to her mouth when she realizes she's being as obnoxiously loud as the couple. The boy snorts with her, running a long fingered hand through his hair and mussing it slightly, away from his eyes. Blue, Piper decides. She likes blue.

"You from up north?" The boy keeps his voice low, sounding like he's been to a rave party and downed half the stock in liqueur. Piper likes that too.

"Wolverhampton, born and raised. You?"

"You already guessed. New York. But I live in London now, just getting back."

"The posh end, I assume?"

"Well posh, innit?" He makes an exaggerated duck face at Piper before collapsing into a fit of giggles again. "Sorry, I'm jet lagged and I haven't slept in about three days. I'm probably making no sense."

"Same here." Piper digs a knuckle into the corner of her eye, pulling off her sunglasses and hanging them from the v of her t-shirt; she can't help but notice the slightly approving way the boy sizes her up. "I'd kill for a tea." She glances covertly to their right, then leans in, stage whispering. "Don't trust the Dutch and their tea making skills though."

The boy guffaws again—Piper starts thinking of this as a personal victory, collecting every laugh she can—before leaning in too, bare arm brushing against the denim of Piper's jacket. "They're complete idiots about it, trust me. Wouldn't know what to do if you gave them a tea bag and a kettle. Coffee's not half bad though. And we are technically in France now."

Piper knots her eyebrows together, keeping her smile tight lipped. "Are you offering to buy me coffee, you kind hearted soul?"

The corners of the boy's mouth practically reach up to his ears as he rolls up his magazine, tugging the handle of his leather travelling bag over his shoulder. "The buffet car's just back there. I can't make any promises on the quality of the café au lait." His accent is really horrible.

"Maybe I'll order an espresso just to piss them off. I'm Piper, by the way." She stretches her hand over, feeling the slightest bit dwarfed when they both stand up in the aisle. She makes it up in personality, anyway, she thinks to herself, as the boy catches her wrist between his fingers, not quite shaking hands.

He's biting his lower lip as he says, "Nice to meet you, Piper. I'm Jason."


	2. tiptoe through our shiny city

_Turn the light out, say goodnight_  
_No thinking for a little while_  
_Let's not try to figure out everything at once_  
_It's hard to keep track of you falling through the sky_

* * *

They end up grimacing at watery cups of filter coffee, Jason stealing Piper's sugar packets without asking and wincing at the bitterness even though he's half a Cadbury Button from his teeth falling out. Piper smacks his hand down when he tries to catch the waiter's attention—_I'm pretty sure they ran out of sweeteners about half an hour ago, hon_—and Jason doesn't protest other than sticking his lip out to pout. The expression fits him so well Piper has to remind herself she's only known this boy for barely an hour.

"So, what's your story, then? What's in Amsterdam?"

Jason makes a face. "Not much, anymore. Had a couple of friends there, a band and all that, but they've all moved now. Decided to stay on a bit with the girlfriend. Turns out I don't have a girlfriend."

Piper makes a sympathetic noise, trying not to look too pleased at this turn of events. "Tough luck. I'm sorry."

Jason waves her off, a grin already plastered on his face. "Better off, to be honest. Never one for commitment, me, not really. Plus, we were gonna be, like, a continent apart anyway." Piper frowns in question. "The band's trying to break America. My mates have already settled down, found a flat in LA and everything. That's why I'm heading to Paris."

Piper whistles, impressed. "So you're telling me I'm sharing a fucking awful coffee with a rockstar?"

"Hopefully?" There's a slight pink tinge to Jason's cheeks at Piper's words that she shouldn't honestly find that endearing. Instead of answering, she rummages through her backpack, pushing away brushes and paints until she fishes out a battered notebook and a chewed-to-death biro. She slides them to Jason.

"I'd like an autograph. It better be worth a lot someday."

Jason stares at her with the lopsided smile, curved up by the little scar on his lip, that Piper's already sort of getting used to before dropping his head down, hiding a grin. The biro spins awkwardly in his hand as he contemplates the blank page in front of him; Piper watches him start writing in blockish, thick, careful letters, brow furrowed in concentration. It's a little bit adorable.

"Here." He pushes the dog-eared notebook back—something else Piper must have borrowed from Leo— and Piper holds it up to read.

To Piper,

Promise you a proper tea once I'm rich and famous.

Also, a train ride all to ourselves, haha.

xxx,

Jason

Piper bites down hard on the inside of her cheek, trying to control her face. Her eyes meet Jason, who looks completely unabashed, and she waves the piece of paper in front of him. "I'm framing this. I can tell you're gonna make something of yourself, rockstar."

"I'd never doubt your wisdom," Jason laughs, eyes sparkling.

"Trust me, I know these things. You'll have a number one by next year."

"Oh, ambitious, I like it." Jason bites down on the top of the biro, apparently forgetting it's not his, and points his chin at Piper. "What brought you over to the continent, then?"

Piper leans back, hugging the notebook to her chest and yawning. "Best friend's studying abroad, and I needed inspiration for my next project. And what kind of person says no to a two week holiday in Amsterdam?"

"Two weeks? I'm surprised you're still standing."

Piper laughs. "We went a bit wild our first week. Then we somehow ended up with a couple of geese in Leo's dorm room, so the rest of the holiday was a bit more peaceful. No more special brownies."

Jason nods, not phased in the slightest by the story. "So, why Paris?"

Piper groans. "Missed my flight. So I spent every last penny on Amsterdam-Paris, Paris-London. Joy."

"Hey, it's not that bad. You got to witness a divorce settlement first hand on a train."

"And I got to meet a future Grammy winner."

"All good things in my book," Jason winks at her and Piper very determinedly ignores the hot flush that travels down her neck. She turns to the window, finally catching sight of something that isn't flat fields and cows grazing at grass; she can count at least two skyscrapers and enough cars to make certain they're nearing Paris. She taps her watch quietly. "We should be at the station in about ten minutes. Should we head back for our stuff?"

They lean by the door as the train pulls into the station, Jason chatting animatedly about his band's newest song—_Percy keeps slipping in all these mythology references, it's actually getting, like, ridiculous, you can't have Medusa and the Minotaur all in one verse, can you_? As they get off they fall easily into an even pace, Piper pulling her battered suitcase behind her. Once they get to the main platform, Piper shields her eyes to check the announcements, dread settling in her stomach. "That's mine, then. 7'45, St. Pancras. I should probably get going." She makes no move towards the platform.

Jason's worrying his lip between his teeth. "Listen, I...My flight's at about, uh, something like ten o'clock tonight. I was just gonna mess around in Paris all day - you know, no money. But, it was fun talking to you and I'm pretty sure you can grab the train tonight, so, if you, I dunno...I mean, if you want?" It takes him almost a full ten minutes to drag the words reluctantly out of his mouth - Piper has never quite met someone who speaks so damn carefully. In contrast, it takes Piper approximately three seconds to make up her mind. She gives Jason her most winning, toothy smile and watches with satisfaction as Jason properly glows.

"Why not?"


	3. with smiles on our faces

They start walking aimlessly, moving in the general direction of the traffic, and Piper has never seen a city so still. It's not even six in the morning, he reasons, and it's a Sunday and she can't really fault the French if they want a lie in. They've left their luggage at the train station and Jason rejects Piper's offer to buy a map—because, apparently, coming over for a daytrip with a bunch of sixth formers makes him an expert in Parisian geography. They do end up in the Champ de Mars—Jason's awfully smug when he points out the Eiffel Tower—but whether it's just dumb luck or Jason's erratic street walking decisions, Piper doesn't really care.

They pass by cafés and pastry shops, curtains still drawn or owners mumbling incoherently as they order sacks of flour to be handled with care. Somehow they wind up helping a slight girl wearing an apron, carrying boxes of fruit into her shop, and Piper rolls her eyes unimpressed because she's beginning to realize that Jason is a sucker for a pretty smile. It's not so bad when she figures out she has that same power himself; a handful of flour dusted over that shock of blond hair makes Jason pounce at her in a second but when Piper laughs, loud and infectious, Jason stops and shakes his head, grin back in full force. They get a few croissants free for their efforts—and Jason pockets a number, Piper can't help but notice—and then continue on, sun finally in full view ahead.

"C'mon, Pipes. Picture time!"

"One, don't call me that, and two, seriously, Jason, this is the most touristy of all touristy things, I am not—"

"Oh, give over, you look gorgeous, let's have a smile. Say 'fromage'!"

Piper pulls a face and bats her eyelids in Jason's direction, pointing two rude fingers to her side where she knows the Eiffel Tower is behind her.

"Perfect."

"Is it really," Piper says, but takes the camera anyway, frowning at the photo. It's not bad, actually; she has bags under her eyes and her hair is hidden under a beanie but the lighting's not bad and you can't really beat the scenery. "Passable."

"Gorgeous," Jason repeats, stealing back the camera and snapping some more, all of which probably feature Piper wide-mouthed and yelling obscenities which (thankfully) no one will be able to hear.

"While flattery is certainly the way to my heart," Piper says loudly, purposely disturbing a couple of what pretentious art students who were just staring at the ground—Jason tries to look serious and it works alarmingly well—"I much prefer being seduced on a full stomach, Grace."

Jason raises an eyebrow and looks Piper up and down, seemingly trying to figure out whether to rise to the bait. "We did just eat."

Piper wrinkles his nose. "That really wasn't food. That was airy fairy pastry, at its worst. I'm a growing girl, I need proper sustenance."

"Meaning...?"

"Meaning I want a full english that's not embellished with toads' legs or snails." Piper sighs dramatically and flops down to the grass, tugging him down with her.

"You want to eat a fry-up in the capital of France." Jason pulls at blades of grass and sounds amused and Piper feels accomplished.

"I'm a patriot. Queen and country and all that."

"You're a menace, that's what you are."

"You love it."

Jason bites his lip—Piper is going to have to ask about that scar sometime—and doesn't answer, instead standing and offering Piper a hand to pull her up. Piper lets herself appreciate the ease with which she's lifted. "You look like you've had an epiphany," she says, batting at the grass stains in the knees of her jeans.

"Something like that. Come on, I know a place. It's probably better if we get there before hungry French people do."

"Er..."

"Just trust me, yeah?" Jason's smile is pretty blinding so Piper just nods and follows, keenly aware of the fact that they're still holding hands. She doesn't let go.

They end up on a road dotted with parked cars, close to the Seine, where eager tourists in shorts and that hideous combination of socks and sandals are roaming around following the GPS on their phones like a compass. Jason seems to be considering the bistros on either side of the road until he settles for one that looks entirely too French to have even heard of sausage and mash.

"This is it," he nods, and drags Piper with him, sitting her down on one of the empty tables and telling her—very slowly, like she's an overactive toddler—to wait.

"Jason!"

"Just be a mo'!" His voice is echoing as though he's barged into the kitchen or something.

Oh.

It takes her about ten minutes to give into curiosity—well, that and the bistro's severe lack of waiters. She finds them all huddled at the doorway to the kitchen—all six of them, neatly pressed uniforms and notebooks hanging from their aprons, all leaning over each other trying to get a better look. One of the girls turns around when she gets nearer and gives her the whitest smile she's ever seen. "You are Piper?" She pronounces it as 'Pipair', which, okay, is sort of endearing and also reminds her of Leo drunk and childhood summers in South France with her father, so sue her if she flirts right back and nods. The waitress grasps her by the forearm and beams at her. "You are very lucky, Piper."

"Am I?"

One of the male servers says something in rapid French and the girl holding Piper lets out a comical laugh. "He is right. We have never seen our chef being told what to do. Your Jason has done the impossible."

She heats up a little at the words—"your Jason" doesn't sound half bad—and doesn't correct her, just fits herself between the others and bites back a laugh at the view of Jason, hair pushed back with some sort of sparkly headband, chatting animatedly with the chef Piper is willing to bet can't speak a lick of English, while he stirs what looks suspiciously like baked beans. She didn't even know they had baked beans in France. Something tells her they probably didn't. But Jason could probably conjure a tin of Heinz Baked Beans out of thin air if he put his mind to it; Piper's known him less than a day, but he's as determined as Annabeth.

Jason notices his audience about half way through burning the bacon to a nice crisp. He shakes his head and mouths _I told you to wait_ to Piper. Piper shrugs all nonchalant and crosses her arms, pointedly not moving.

Jason presses his lips together, making a face Piper would probably call exasperated on any other human being. "Might as well come and help, then, since you ruined the surprise."

"I should warn you I've burnt down kitchens before," Piper says, pushing past the wall of waiters to stand next to him.

"Just hold a plate while I dish up then. I promised Maurice he could try some."

Piper pouts. "And here I thought I was special."

Jason blinks at him. "I got a French chef to let me use his kitchen while I cooked you a full English breakfast. I'd say you're pretty special."

Piper clamps her mouth shut at that, trying not to look the picture of chuffed. After Maurice the Chef tries Jason's masterpiece—_pas terrible, _he says, which apparently is the highest of praise, though Piper has no idea why—they settle down on one of the tables outside, sharing a plate of fried goodness that makes Piper actually moan aloud. Jason looks actually embarrassed at the reaction, which has definitely got to be a first since Piper met him.

"I think I'm going to have to keep you."

Jason's eyes startlingly blue as he looks up, almost bashful. Ridiculously, he reminds Piper of that statue outside Leo's fraternity house, Zeus or something. "'Keep me'?"

"Uh huh," Piper says, picking around a mushroom. "Can't have the colonies stealing a national treasure away."

"I don't think you can call them the colonies anymore, Pipes."

"Smart and pretty, you're actually breaking my heart now."

The smile that doesn't fit on his face returns in full force at Piper's praise and the scar pulls; Piper squints at it, wrapping her hands around the mug of tea he'd set down in front of her. "What's that?"

"Huh?"

"Scar," she says, poking her lip

"Oh, that. My sister loves that story. I tried to eat a stapler."

Piper snorts. "Did it work?"

"I think the scar would be a lot bigger if it did."

She shrugs, picks up her fork. "Fair enough."

Piper groans and drops his head to the table. "I feel unaccomplished and inferior."

"Hey." He feels a finger sneak under her chin and lifts it up and she's treated to those bloody eyes again. "Really no need to feel any of those things. I think you're brilliant and I've only known you for about," he pulls her wrist around and checks her watch, "five hours. I expect to be completely smitten by this afternoon."

"Well." Piper pauses, carefully avoids eye contact as she draws a smiley face in her syrup. "Well. Ditto."


	4. and you just keep on getting closer

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

"You were the one who insisted we were tourists. Embrace it, Grace. It's romantic."

Jason's hands curl all the way around the rails and he takes a step higher, leaning over until he's facing the water. Piper's hand bunches on the back of his shirt almost as a reflex; she refuses to smile back when Jason turns to him, looking extremely pleased with himself. "I'm not jumping, Pipes, don't worry."

"Go ahead, I'd be glad to be shot of you, to be honest," she says instead, turning resolutely the other way, watching pedestrians walk the west bank, her fingers still holding Jason put. She doesn't let out a sigh of relief when Jason steps down—that would stupid and Piper isn't stupid, despite appearances and what Leo says—but she does breathe a little easier, raising an eyebrow at Jason. "That was very Titanic."

"Hey, you said it's romantic. And we're on a boat, I can't help myself."

Piper nods absently, tucking her smile away in the folds of her coat, wrapping her arms around herself. It probably wasn't one of her best ideas to take a ride on a bateau mouche in the middle of December—no one else on the trip seemed to have braved the open deck for more than a couple of minutes before huddling to the warmth inside. But the view was too pretty to waste, really: she sneaks another look at Jason, jacket open and covered in goosebumps, the idiot. Paris looks good too, she supposes.

"Are you cold, Piper?"

"If you can manage, I can, blondie."

"Here." Jason sidles in behind her, resting his chin on Piper's shoulder and covering them both with his stupidly big coat. Piper hesitates a second before falling back and fitting herself against Jason, grudgingly keeping her face blank. "Better?"

"A bit," Piper shrugs, trying not to shiver as Jason's breath tickles her ear. Jason hums against her and Piper feels it travel down her spine and, honestly, when the hell did this bloody happen?

"Ah, look, the Pont Neuf!" Jason points at the bridge looming over them, one arm still tight around Piper's waist.

"Are you trying to impress me, Grace?"

"I've been trying all day. Is it working?" She can hear the smugness in his voice.

"I went to Paris in Year Ten, too, you twat, I know what the bloody Pont Neuf is!"

"Fine, fine." Jason puts his face closer to Piper's again, both arms warm around them. "I'll stop pointing out the sights. I like it better like this anyway."

"Wrapped around me like an octopus?"

"Yup. 'S cosy."

Piper lets a shaky breath, watching it turn into fog in the coldness of the air. "Can't argue with that."

"Good. Don't. But, just in case you didn't notice..."

"I'm not blind, Jason. D'you want me to sing the 'Bells of Notre Dame' as we go by?"

"I think I'd enjoy that," Jason laughs and Piper really, really, shouldn't be this affected by it. She should pull away and laugh it off and do everything Piper does to make things comfortable and familiar. But that's just the thing; it's already comfortable and familiar. So, instead, she slides an arm out (much to Jason's muffled protests) and slots it against Jason's, tangling their fingers together and sharing the warmth. Jason smiles approvingly, his head practically buried in Piper's hair.

"I was actually joking. But, by all means, you can belt out a Disney song if you feel like it, rockstar."

"Can't do that."

"Uh huh. And why's that?"

"Shy." Jason's hair is tickling her as Piper turns around ludicrously. Jason still won't let go though, so they're stuck in a silly sort of half hug; Jason doesn't look exactly put out by it.

"Well, that's ridiculous."

"Well, sorry. No private gigs for you."

Piper narrows her eyes. "You said your flight was at ten? That gives me, at least, eight hours to break you. You'll sing for me yet, blondie."

"You want to break me? Okay." Jason nods, half biting his lip, half smiling.

"It'll happen, Grace," Piper resumes her position, leaning against Jason, watching the Notre Dame come closer and closer.

"I'm counting on it," Jason murmurs in her ear, and. Piper is not affected, she is not affected. Definitely not.

But as they pass Notre Dame, spires towering over them, he leans forward, hums the opening bars of the song right in her ear. His breath is warm, and he still smells like pancakes.

_Maybe_ she's affected. Just a little bit.

* * *

**heads up: three chapters left **


	5. take off your running shoes

"I'm willing to bet you have more than your fair share of old holey sweatshirts, Jason."

"What makes you say that?"

"Just a feeling. But, no, I'm not letting you spend money on that, that's horrible. And it's about fifteen sizes too big."

"I like 'em loose."

Piper looks at him, biting her lip and failing to hide a smile. "There's a joke to be made there. But I'm too much a lady to make it."

Jason laughs. "Glad you're making that sacrifice for me, Pipes."

After more coaxing and eventually giving in and letting Jason buy a horrid Eiffel tower shirt—"You realise they are ripping you off, yeah?" "Yeah. But I look good in it. Don't I?" "No—Well. Okay, you do, but."—Piper steers them both away from the stall at the flea market, guiding them through the throngs of people. Jason points out random shit most of the time—"Piper, look, it's a whisky flask!" "Not in the prohibition era, Jason. Also, not in Chicago."—and Piper takes it upon herself to rein him in, keeping a tight lock on his wrists and smiling into Jason's back whenever he begins to wander off.

They bicker all the way through the market, never letting go of each other once, agreeing only when Piper spots a stand with books yellowed enough to convince himself they're more than a decade old and Jason whines on her shoulder until he notices the box of records nearby. Piper's leafing through a worn out copy of Les Mis—at least she assumes so, the writing is so faded and so French that it's difficult to make out, but if Éponine and Cosette are anything to go by, she might just have use her bargaining skills—when she hears a familiar melody distinguish itself from the mutterings of the noisy tourists. She slaps a hand over her eyes but doesn't attempt to hide the smile as she watches Jason play air guitar along with Blondie. Jason grins goofily in answer, looking more like a child than a grown up wannabe rockstar, and Piper carefully puts Victor Hugo down and clasps Jason's hands in her. She pulls him down just enough so they're at the same height—as long as she stands on her toes—and presses a sloppy, closed-mouthed kiss to Jason's lips.

There are a few wolf whistles as she lets go but she's concentrating too much on not turning red to care. Jason looks awfully dazed, blinking slowly, his cheeks pink from the cold and his mouth wet and red, but a lazy smile makes its appearance on his face, scar pulled wide. "What was that for?" he asks, his voice damnably slow.

"I—wanted to, I dunno." Piper ducks her head now, willing herself not to blush, and is left without warning when Jason leans his head alongside, kissing the corner of her mouth.

"All done with your shopping?"

"Yeah—I think I'm good."

"Good, then," Jason nods, smiling. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Piper takes the arm that's offered and wonders what she's got herself into.


	6. whistle me a tune

"Name."

"You know that, idiot."

"We have to start somewhere!"

"Fine, fine. Piper, then."

"Piper...?"

"Piper McLean, at your service."

"Nice to meet you, Piper McLean. I'm Jason Grace."

"You don't say!"

"Play nice, Pipes."

"Don't call me that. Okay, your turn now. Age?"

"Oh, cutting deep with the questions, aren't we?"

"Shut it, you. Just answer the question."

Jason snorts, tightening his hold around Piper's shoulder; she retaliates with a jab at his waist as they make their way through the newly lit up streets. Piper has her free hand in the box Jason's offering, contemplating on her next choice of macaroon; she goes for the blue in the end, wincing a little at the sweetness. Trust Jason.

"Age, then," Jason sighs, like it's a hardship. "Nineteen."

"Young'un, then," Piper hums, wagging her tongue in front of her to see if it's blue; Jason knocks at it with his nose. "Ugh, that's disgusting, Jason. I don't know where your nose has been."

"You don't know where my mouth has been either but that didn't stop you."

"Not the same."

"Exactly the same. And your age?"

"Twenty one and loving it. Ha! I just realized you're going to be under the drinking age in America. Fine band you'll be with an underage singer."

"It'll add to my image."

"And what image is that? Virginal choir boy who happens to play guitar?"

Jason presses his tongue against his hollowed cheek. "Do I look like a virginal choir boy?"

"Well, no. But you don't look like a kid fresh out of juvie either so it's three years of abstinence for you. Alcohol abstinence, you smartarse, don't think I don't know what your big mouth was about to say. Last job."

"I worked at a shooting range back home."

Piper raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Were you any good?"

Jason chuckles. "I tried. Flirting with the customers apparently helped."

"I bet." Piper rolls her eyes.

"Hey, I saw that." He squeezes the muscles in Piper's arms and she twists away, laughing. "Dream job."

"Footballer. I tried out for the Rovers."

"And?"

"Didn't make the cut. Also, I was seduced by academia."

"Were you?"

"English at Manchester, I'll have you know."

Jason meets her eyes—his are stupidly sparkly now, in the half light—and nods. "Yeah, had you pegged for something like that. Bit more artistic maybe."

Piper shrugs. "I do some ceramics on the side. It's not really a thing. Brothers? Sisters?"

"One sister. Older and a menace. You?"

"None. Celebrity crush?"

"Oh, tough one. The Spice Girls."

"All of them?"

"Can't deny it."

"_If you wanna be my lover_—."

"Hey, don't make fun. They're brilliant."

"Are they now?"

"Almost as brilliant as me."

Piper grins. "Someone's cocky. Speaking of. When did you lose it?"

"Lose what?" They stop at the sidewalk, waiting for the traffic lights to turn green. Jason's smiling widely again, his skin a little flushed. Piper feels inordinately pleased with herself.

"You know exactly what." She pulls his arm from Jason's waist, opting instead to tangle their fingers together.

"Fifteen. A mate of my sister's. "

"Ooh."

"I know, yeah?" He smirks and Piper elbows him. "You?"

"Me, what?"

"Piper."

"Sixteen. Boyfriend. Then seventeen, best friend."

Jason makes a face. "That sounds awkward."

Piper laughs, pressing her head close to Jason, counting the silver Citroens that drive by.

"It actually wasn't. It was just...nice."

"Lucky you."

"I guess," Piper shrugs, pulling Jason away, eyes on the bright lights just down the road, where she can see a crowd of twenty somethings, all nursing a bottle and swaying a little to the music playing from somewhere. "Title of a song you wrote."

Jason makes a whining sort of noise. "It's gonna sound weird."

"I study English. I've probably heard worse."

"Fine. Okay. 'You Are A Hurricane-Prone Area.'"

Piper spins as she's walking, stopping them both in the middle of the road; luckily there's no traffic. "Now that, you have got to explain."

"It's a metaphor."

"Well, yes, I got that or else I'd be worried what kind of people you hang out with. Is it about an ex?"

"Not, um, not really." Piper feels Jason squeeze her hand a little tighter and smiles encouragingly. "Just, you know, people. Leaving. And what they leave behind."

She can't help the soft look that takes over her face as Jason talks, his brow furrowed, fingers playing with his dry lips like he's nervous. "It sounds like a good song, love."

"You think?" Jason lights up at that, shyness tucked away. "Maybe you'll get to hear it sometime."

"I'd like that," Piper nods, trying to keep the sad edge from her voice. She didn't do a good job of it if Jason's soothing thumb drawing circles on her wrist is anything to go by. "Let's get something to drink, okay?"

They end up by the banks of the Seine again, clinking bottles whenever drunk students head their way, breaking into a rendition of 'Glory Glory Man United' when they spot a group of English lads, all decked in red and yelling abuse at the Eiffel Tower for some reason.

"Favorite ice cream flavor."

"Um, cookie dough?"

"Ugh, you do have a sweet tooth, don't you. Mine's anything with chocolate." She nods at a vendor across the street. "Be a dear, would you?"

The puppy-eyed look is back and Jason swoops down, hand cupping Piper's chin to bring her up for a kiss before he bounds off to the ice cream vendor who's warming his hands over a heater. Piper catches herself staring after him, silly smile on her face as she watches. She turns away, walking slightly ahead where a cluster of people are leaning on each other, swaying to the sound of a guitar. She tosses a note into the open guitar case and grins at the girl playing.

Jason's arms snake around her waist in the middle of the song, his hand lifting up just enough for Piper to take a sloppy lick of her ice cream cone. Piper leans back, already getting used to this kind of treatment. The red-haired girl is looking up at them now with a kind of goofy fondness, her fingers running along the guitar until she starts playing the Pixies. Piper rolls her eyes and Jason starts laughing as she breaks into the chorus of 'Here Comes Your Man'.

"You did promise you were gonna sing for me."

"No, I didn't."

"Well, you're going to, aren't you?" She laughs when Jason groans, already giving in. "I told you I was going to break you."

"Any requests?"

"Surprise me, blondie. Now, go!"

Jason scrapes his teeth across Piper's neck before walking off, shifting down easily and whispering to the guitar player. She can see Jason introducing himself, and the kid replying–"I'm Rachel, nice to meet ya"— and shake hands, before sitting down. He gives Piper a thumbs up before nodding at Rachel; Piper joins the rest of the crowd sitting cross-legged on the floor, resting her chin on his knees and wrapping her arms around her legs.

She doesn't recognize the song at first; just hums along to the sound of Jason and Rachel's voices, shivering at Jason's low sort of growl as he sings out the words. She remembers the carefully folded piece of paper she has in her rucksack—love, Jason— and thinks that maybe that was one of her smarter ideas; Jason's got the kind of voice that should fill stadiums and it makes her feel the slightest bit proud to have seen that.

The song ends and there's a smattering of applause from the crowd that starts to disperse and Rachel grins widely at the bills that fall freely as they leave. She tries to share half with Jason who refuses with a shrug and instead scribbles his email in Rachel's open guitar case, making her promise to hit him up if she's ever in LA. They hug instead of just shaking hands and Piper has to laugh when Rachel's arms wrap around her too—"We're basically best friends now I've serenaded you with Nutini." She makes a point off proving it by taking Piper's ice cream and wincing at the cold as she and Jason make small talk and Piper thinks she could like this kid really easily given time.

"You lovebirds better get going, if you're gonna catch that train. Last one's in," Rachel looks down at the watch on her wrist, fingers still strumming vaguely, and makes a pained face, "less than an hour, I'd say. You two are making me wanna write sappy songs about star crossed lovers or some shit."

"Neither of us is planning on dying, I don't think," Piper turns to Jason, raising her eyebrows until Jason nods sagely, eyes shut. "So there's that." She settles more comfortably against him, making sure to keep her face blank as she feels Jason's fingers drum a soft beat over her wrists. Rachel smiles knowingly.

"It was great meeting you." Rachel gives them another hug, this time just sort of falling over Piper until she reaches a bit of Jason.

Piper squeezes Rachel back and grins. "See you around, hon. Thanks for the song."

"He's a keeper," Rachel winks, stage-whispering and waving them off. And louder, to Jason, "so're you!"

Jason laughs as they start walking away and Piper restrains herself just until she's sure the walkway is empty. When she's certain there are only a couple of drunk smokers within walking distance on either side of them, she grabs at Jason's shirt—he'd taken his jacket off before, the absolute fool, and forced Piper into it with a smug bloody smile and an infuriating "It looks good on you, Pipes,"—and pulls him to her. Jason falls against her with an 'oomph', then half giggles, half groans as Piper's nails scratch a trail over the line of his hip.

"You sang Nutini to me, you shit. What kind of indie rock god do you expect to be, singing to me about 'one last time let's go there' blah blah blah?" She bites down on Jason's stupid dry red lips to emphasize her point.

"So, you liked it?" Jason smiles into Piper's mouth, one hand stroking along the column of her neck, the other digging into her side, keeping her put.

"Of course I liked it!"

"Hey now, Pipes, no need to shower me with compliments."

"I'll do what I want." Piper drapes an arm over Jason's shoulder, licking into his mouth possessively and bracing herself when she breaks away. "But I have a train to catch."

Jason shakes his head, lips still brushing over Piper's. "Okay," he says, sounding like he's dragging the words from his mouth. "Okay. You do. Have a train to catch." He sounds like he's too overwhelmed for anymore words and Piper thinks _me, that's all me_ and her head spins a little.

"But I really do have to get going," she says, reluctant.

Jason nods, but doesn't let go. "Stay a little longer."

And really, who could object to that?


	7. cover me in

**i'm so sorry guys omfg ffnet hasn't been working for me at all. that last post was supposed to be a pm, not a chapter, and when i edited some of my old stories ff moved them to the front page and sent out new chapter notifications even though there are no new chapters. sorry for the inconvenience, and hopefully posting the real final chapter will make it up to you.**

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The cab drive to the station is mostly silent, neither of them quite up to talking. They sit at each side, leaning against the window, not touching until Jason reaches out a hand and starts playing with Piper's fingers in the space between them. Piper's exhausted, if she's honest, keeping herself from dozing off only thanks to the occasional shout from the cab driver and the string of undoubtedly rude French words that follows from the rest of the traffic.

"Piper? Piper, we're here."

She blinks at the voice near her ear and smiles lazily up at Jason who's looming over her with the fondest expression on his face. She pats his cheek sleepily and gets up from where she's fallen uncomfortably in the cab seat, leaning over to pay the cabbie. They get into a small scuffle, the both of them, until Jason relents and lets Piper pay—"I'm still moony over that breakfast, it's the least I can do."

Fatigue starts rolling over her in waves as they make their way into the station, hand's width apart but still close enough for it not to be uncomfortable. Piper goes to check her ticket, joining the ridiculously long queue of sleep-deprived, insufferable compatriots that seem to be complaining in unison, turning every so often to watch Jason browsing the newsstand, slouching with his hair all over the place. There's something tight in her chest every time she turns and makes sure Jason's still there, something that only gets worse when she tucks the ticket in her backpack and glances at the time. Her train leaves in ten minutes.

"All set?" Jason smiles at her all easygoing, fingers wrapped around a plastic bag. Piper tries to sneak a peek, curious.

"Low on literature, Jason?"

"We've both got long journeys ahead of us, it's always nice to have something to distract you."

"True enough. Let's see what you got then, I read nothing lesser than the Economist, I'm warning you."

Jason huffs out a laugh and leads them to one of the benches close to Piper's platform. He tips the bag over the seat and Piper frowns for a second before realising. "You got two of everything."

Jason's expression is sheepish and he's stuffing his hands in his jeans like he's shy. "At least we'll be on the same page for a while."

"I appreciate the thought, even though," Piper leans down to pick up one of the magazines, "two _Hello_s is excessive, whatever the context." She can feel her face turn warm as she smiles at Jason. "This is nice though. This is...really nice."

Jason draws a finger across Piper's cheekbone and their eyes meet, both a little sad. The overhead announcement makes them break apart again, Piper scrambling around for her suitcase and tucking the stuff Jason got her under her arms. They trip through the crowd, only stopping when they spot the train and Piper dramatically wipes a sleeve across her forehead. Which reminds her.

"Think you'll probably miss this, you know." She makes to shrug out of the jacket Jason gave her, but Jason stops her, putting a hand on her arm.

"It looks better on you."

"Now that's a lie, and you know it."

"I'm serious," Jason grins, scar pulling up. "I'd like you to keep it."

Piper wants to argue because this is ridiculous but Jason's doing that thing with his face again, all open and wide, his mouth too red and big for the rest of him, and the fight drains out of her. She tucks herself tighter in the jacket and turns to hear the last call. "I suppose you won't have much use of it in LA anyway."

Jason nods. "Yeah. 'Spose so."

They stand there, finally a little awkward, and Piper has the urge to just start running and not look back.

"Look, Jason—"

"Piper, I'd like—"

They talk over each other and then laugh, both heads turned down.

"It was nice. Today was really nice, Jason ," Piper says, taking her chance. Jason nods, biting his lip.

"If I gave you my email, would you keep in touch?" And it's terrible, absolutely gut-wrenchingly terrible how earnest Jason looks as he talks.

"Best not, love. I'd only be making a promise I wouldn't keep." She grits her teeth because she hates the words coming out of her mouth. Jason nods again, mostly to the ground.

"Still. It's on page three. You can ignore it, if you want." Jason turns as he sees the platform empty around him. "You'd better go."

"I—yeah." Piper twists on the spot, lugging her luggage onto the train. The tight feeling in her chest makes it hard to breathe and she's dumping the rest of her stuff on the floor of the train car and mumbling a chorus of 'bad idea bad idea _bad idea'_ when she jumps off again. She barrels into Jason on her tiptoes and buries her hands in Jason's hair, laughing into his mouth more than kissing him. Someone is shouting at her rather loudly in French as she lets go.

"Dramatic, that," Jason breathes, grin out in full force.

"I've always wanted to do that." Piper leans up—one last time, she insists to herself, just to remember - and plants another kiss on Jason's mouth. She bites her lip as she climbs back on the train and it hurts her face to smile this much. "I'll see you again, Jason Grace!" There's a ticket inspector shrieking in her ear so it's hard to catch Jason's reply but she thinks it's probably along the lines of "See you soon, Piper McLean!"

It's enough.


End file.
